


The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To

by coloursflyaway



Series: Let Me Give You My Life [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha!Steve, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Drunken Confessions, Emotional Sex, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Omega!Bucky, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1606280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky goes out in the evenings and comes home drunk and in love, cuddles up against Steve and one thing leads to another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [你的身边是我唯一想去的天堂](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1800151) by [Darchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darchi/pseuds/Darchi)



> If everything works out, I’ll make this into a series, but I’m not promising anything yet~

Bucky slides into his bed at night, stinking like alcohol and another alpha’s scent. It’s nothing new for the other to come back to their cramped little apartment, smelling like a brothel, but while Steve knows that he has no right whatsoever to feel jealous (because Bucky is not his, never will be, and he repeats that to himself and hopes to God that one day, the knowledge will be enough to keep his heart from fluttering when the other is around), he does.  
The other shifts until he’s pressed against Steve’s back, all muscles and tempting warmth, and they really shouldn’t do this, because they are not kids anymore, and physical intimacy like this should happen between mates. But Steve doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move away; he has always liked being close to Bucky, and likes it more now that they are older. Just because he is the frailest, weakest, most laughable excuse for an alpha which has ever existed, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy the closeness of an omega, especially when that omega is Bucky, who he might just have loved ever since he first laid eyes on the other.

He loves him still, although Bucky has been insufferable lately, going out more and getting into even worse fights, smelling like a different alpha, beta every night; Steve cleans him up when he stumbles home and makes him coffee in the morning. Accepts his sheepish smiles and half-sincere apologies, stands up on his tiptoes to ruffle Bucky’s hair and tells him he’s being an idiot.  
Or, like now, lets Bucky nuzzle his neck, trying hard not to think too much about it.  
“Hey, Steve”, the other whispers, but even with his voice quiet, the words sound impossibly loud. “Steve, are you awake?”

He should say no and turn away, try to get some sleep, because goddamn, he needs it, but he doesn’t. Instead lifts his head a little, nods. “I’m now”, he says, and tries so hard to sound annoyed; he fails. “You’ve been drinking again?”  
Bucky nods, Steve can feel his head move against his back, strong jawline and soft hair, there is a little, happy hum and Bucky presses even closer. “Should’ve come with me”, he says and Steve can feel hot breath washing over him. It takes all of his willpower to stop himself from shivering. “We would’ve had fun, promise. Dancing and music and drinking…”

What Bucky means is that he would have had fun, that he would have danced and drunk, but Steve doesn’t say that, doesn’t want to upset him when there is no reason to. No real reason anyway. “You know that I don’t like your bars, don’t you?”, he answers instead, “Too much smoke, it makes me cough.”  
“Still should’ve come. We never go out together anymore.” There is a hint of sadness in Bucky’s voice, and Steve hopes that he is only imagining it; no matter how difficult the other can be, Steve never wants to see him sad.  
“Maybe next time”, he says to soothe him, but before the words are out of his mouth, he knows Bucky won’t believe them – he would not, either. And the other doesn’t, goes tense and then pliant again, before he answers, in the smallest voice Steve has ever heard him use, resigned and hopeless. “You’re just saying that.”

There are no words for the longest time, because Steve can’t think of anything to say. He won’t lie to Bucky, but speaking the truth sounds almost worse, possibly hurting the other more like the most horrible thing imaginable. But then Bucky breaks the silence, makes Steve wish he hadn’t.  
“Why don’t you want me?”, the other asks suddenly, his voice still small, but desperate this time, pained. “I know…I know, I’m not good, but if you tell me, show me what to do, I’ll be good enough for you, I swear, Steve. I swear.”  
Bucky shifts close again, hides his face against Steve’s back, his shirt, and Steve thinks he might be going mad, but he thinks he can feel tears on his skin, soaking through his shirt.

The last time he has seen Bucky cry, they were still kids and had gotten into a fight, Bucky trying so hard to protect Steve, who, even back then, was sickly and weak. One of the others had punched Bucky right in the face, and when Steve had half-carried him home, there had been tear tracks on his cheeks.

But this is different, they are older and Bucky shouldn’t be in pain, least of all because of him.

He turns around, slowly, to give the other enough time to shift away, all the while trying to find the right words to say. Maybe he should tell Bucky to just get some sleep, because the other is just so obviously drunk, and can’t so obviously mean what he is saying. Or should try to make the other laugh, maybe should say that Bucky is just perfect the way he is.  
But he’d be lying, and Steve has never been comfortable with that.

Because Bucky is _everything_ , good and bad, is the thought that gets Steve out of bed in the mornings and the last one before he falls asleep, is the person he worries for most and the first one he prays for at night. Bucky is who he thinks of when other people mention love, and Steve cannot remember a time when he wasn’t.

It’s nothing he can say, though, because Steve is so in love he feels it with every breath, but Bucky isn’t, so instead Steve waits until he can look at the other, says, “Hey, hey”, he finally whispers, tries to smile, which is so hard when Bucky’s eyes are still brimming with tears. He doesn’t allow himself to touch the other, though, too afraid that he won’t be able to let go again. “Stop it, alright? You’re my best friend, and there is a reason for that. And there are…” His voice trails off, because it hurts to say this, but he knows he has to. For Bucky. “There are a thousand alphas out there, who would kill to have a chance to even talk to you.”

There is no smile, no hint of sunshine in Bucky’s face, and this is not what Bucky is supposed to look like; he’s supposed to have a smile on his face which is as bright as sunshine and as soothing as the sound of rain. Steve tries to smile, but it doesn’t work not when Bucky looks so lost, so pained.  
If the other had given him more time, Steve thinks he would have maybe been able to find the right words to soothe him, but Bucky doesn’t, furrows his brows and looks down, looks up again and right at Steve, unshed tears in his eyes and a strange mixture between resignation and tenderness in his eyes.  
“But you wouldn’t.”

It’s the way he says it which makes Steve believe it, soft and hollow, not a spark of hope in his voice, just the certainty that this won’t change anything. That nothing will change anything.  
It's the same tone Steve knows he would use, if he was the one saying those words.

For a long while, there is nothing. No sound, no thought, just Bucky’s eyes and Steve’s breathless silence, because while he has thought up the words to tell the other about his own feelings a hundred times, he has never expected this to happen.  
And time passes, and Steve still cannot find the right words, but Bucky’s eyes are getting sadder by the second, so in the end, he just says words, which are not right, but there and easy and hopefully will make the other understand.  
“Buck”, he says, softly, because his voice will break when he speaks too loudly. “I would fight every army in this world for a chance to be with you.”

The same expression which Steve just knows was written all over his face before, flits over Bucky’s expression now, shocked and surprised and disbelieving, and it’s that what makes it real for Steve; Bucky looks overwhelmed and he surely does, too.  
Slowly, ever so slowly, the other extends a hand, touches his fingertips to his cheek, as if he was afraid that Steve would just disappear, drags them down to his lips and Steve’s breath hitches, almost makes him choke.  
“You’re…you’re serious”, he whispers, like it’s a dream, “Oh my God, you’re serious, you mean it, you’re not just- you’re serious.”

Bucky doesn’t move, and Steve doesn’t, either, because he doesn’t know how to, where to, because for now, it’s okay to just look at Bucky. Feel the other’s fingers on his lips.  
An eternity seems to pass, and there is a tightness in Steve’s chest which has nothing to do with his lungs for once, like he is about to explode and his body is just barely able to keep himself together.  
It's Bucky who moves first, and Steve is not surprised; the other shifts closer, inch by inch, until they are almost touching, every of the other’s exhales hot on Steve’s skin while he cannot seem to even breathe. “Can I k-kiss you?”,

The question is asked in a tone so soft that Steve hardly even hears it, breathless and gentle and impossibly afraid, it makes his heart skip and his eyes widen; talking is one thing, kissing… kissing seems like the one thing he has always wanted but never was able to do. Steve nods, shaky movements which make the fingertip on his lips drag across his skin.  
Bucky’s eyes are still blue, even in the barely-there light, and Steve can see the anxiety in them, because no matter what they are, what this makes them, Steve has always been able to read the other without problems. Has always known Bucky inside out.

And so, for once, he does what an alpha is supposed to do, does what he has always wanted to do for Bucky; he takes care of him. Pushes himself up with one arm and leans in, takes a moment to memorise the look on Bucky’s face before he leans in. Kisses him.

Bucky’s lips do not feel like he has imagined them, but not that differently either, still soft and plush against his own, tasting of cheap alcohol and cheaper cigarettes and another’s kiss, but Steve ignores that. Instead, he brings the hand he is not using for support up to cup Bucky’s cheek, uses it to tilt the other’s head back slightly, to deepen the kiss.  
It takes a few moments until Bucky starts kissing back, but that is okay. Steve knows that, if it was the other way around, he would be too shocked at first as well; instead he waits and parts his lips, lets his tongue ask for entrance. The other grants it only a few moments later, sighs into the kiss, and returns it.

It’s soft, gentle, and although Steve has always imagined their kisses more passionate, slightly rougher, he thinks it is perfect anyway.

They keep kissing for what feels like forever, until Steve isn’t sure if he can remember a time before that, and although the kisses never differ much, never are anything but gentle, lips against lips, every of them feels different still. Feels like a promise. Feels like another thing they have never said but felt.  
It’s Bucky who breaks the kiss in the end, looking at Steve with hooded, blue eyes, his lips pink and soft, and Steve can’t help but want to kiss him again. And he would, now that he feels like he is allowed to, but Bucky ‘s brow is furrowed, he darts his tongue out and wets his lips, speaks. “You do mean it, don’t you? You won’t just... you aren’t just saying this to make me feel better, because I am lonely and drunk and you’re…”  
His voice trails off and Steve doesn’t give him time to find it again, just reaches out and grabs the lapels of Bucky’s jacket, pulls him closer and presses their lips together, the kiss a lot more forceful, more passionate than the ones before, because Steve won’t allow Bucky to even think like that, let alone speak the words out loud. “For all my life”, he gasps out between kisses, against Bucky’s lips, “I’ve wanted you for all my life, and I’ll want you tomorrow too, and the day afterwards, and the day after that and for the rest of my life, and if you’ll have me, then, Jesus Christ, Buck, I’ll take every bit of you you’re willing to give.”

The other looks at him like he still doesn’t believe a word Steve is saying, and it hurts in a way he would never thought possible. He knows that he should tell Bucky to go out and find another alpha, one he won’t have to defend, but someone who’ll defend him, but at the same time, he cannot send Bucky away, not when he is looking like this, and not when Steve has been aching for him ever since he can remember.  
“Let me…tell me how to prove it.” He doesn’t know what Bucky wants, so he asks for directions, knowing already that he will do whatever the other wants him to.

There is a pause, and Bucky’s eyes are still on him, sharp and hopeful and yet a little sad, and his voice, when he finally speaks, sounds the same. “Sleep with me.” Just three words, and yet they make Steve’s head spin, because he has never expected to hear them, not from Bucky. Not from anyone.  
“I…”, he starts, not knowing what he wants to say, if he wants to suggest waiting until Bucky is sober and can think this through, or if he just wants to forget about that and tell the other to come closer. Bucky’s face decides it for him, the expression on it lost and hopeless and afraid, and Steve cannot stop himself from surging forward and kissing Bucky again, lips sliding against lips, and the other’s hand coming to rest on his thigh, not gripping it, as if Bucky wasn’t sure if he was allowed to do that.  
“Okay.” The word tumbles out of his mouth, but it feels right, so Steve doesn’t take it back. “Okay, yes, yes, we can-“

Bucky cuts him off with a kiss that tastes desperate on his lips, but Steve still responds to it with as much passion as he can find inside his frail chest, kisses Bucky like both their lives depend on it. And maybe it does, because suddenly it feels like he couldn’t ever get close enough to Bucky, as if even the few layers of fabric between them are too much, keep him from breathing.  
Maybe, the other feels the same, because only a few moments pass until there are hands tugging on his t-shirt, pushing it up and away, only breaking the kiss to pull the offending garment over Steve’s head and throwing it away carelessly. There is a pause, and Bucky pulls his own shirt off too; Steve can only watch.

Over the past two years they have been living together, Steve has never allowed himself more than a short glance when Bucky was changing and he happened to be in the same room; it was too dangerous to do so, and too bad for his own mental health. So seeing Bucky now, and being allowed to just look, feels nothing but amazing.  
The other has always been taller, been broader, stronger, but seeing Bucky now, all tanned skin and muscles flexing underneath it, it feels different, and Steve can feel his mouth go dry, can feel his chest tighten, too. Because while Bucky looks like one of the statues his mom used to take him to look at in the museum, Steve knows what he looks like, knows that he is skinny and small and not worth the status nature has pushed on him. And although Bucky has to know this, there is still the lingering fear that he _will_ _care_. Will look at Steve’s scrawny chest and his thin arms, will see just how wrong he was and how-  
Bucky might be reading his mind, or just reading him, because he doesn’t even allow Steve to finish his thought, just leans in and kisses him again, still passionate, still hungry, slides large hands over Steve’s sides and makes him shiver.

“Jesus Christ, stop thinking, Rogers”, Bucky mutters against his lips, hands pulling Steve closer until their chests are touching, the other’s warmth seeping into Steve’s. “I’ve known you’re a scrawny little punk since we met, so don’t even dare bringing it up.”  
It's strange, because only a few moments ago, it was Steve having to reassure Bucky, but it fits nonetheless; the one thing Bucky has always been best at is making Steve feel better. And he feels better, even if it were only a couple of quickly spoken words, feels better and kisses the other back, slides his own hands down Bucky’s chest, still amazed by the fact that he can do that.  
“I won’t, I promise”, he says when he pulls back again, because he is short of breath and because it’s good to hear Bucky’s voice the way it should sound; confident and teasing and like it always does.  
The other grins, and so their next kiss ends up sloppy, more teeth than lips, but Steve doesn’t mind; doesn’t mind, because it’s still Bucky kissing him.

"Good", Bucky almost growls, and slots their lips together once more, his hands making their way down Steve's body and finally finding a spot to rest on just above his hips. They feel good there, warm and reassuring; Steve can only hope that his own palms pressed to Bucky's chest feel the same.  
He lets them travel too, down to the other's stomach, around him to follow the curve of Bucky's back to his arse, stopping for a second and just an inch away from the omega's pants. Not quite daring to touch.  
Bucky knows, or figures it out, because with their lips still moving together, tongues finding a rhythm which fits them both, Bucky gets on his knees and starts undoing his pants, pushing them past his hips easily and without losing his balance. Torn between wanting to touch so, so much and wanting to get the rest of his own clothes off as quickly as possible, Steve stills for a moment, just kisses Bucky, brings one hand up to the other's face and cups his cheek. Bucky leans into the touch, smiles slightly against Steve's lips, and lets him know that he'd call Steve a ridiculous sap if he could, without even saying a word.

Steve tells him to shut up with by sinking his teeth into Bucky's lower lip; it makes the other keen in the back of his throat, the sound setting Steve's skin on fire. Making the choice for him too, because he's too hot, and needs to make Bucky feel like that as well, needs to hear more of those sounds, more of everything.  
With limbs too thin and movements too stilted to be called graceful, Steve reaches down and slides his pyjama pants over slender hips, gasping, because the air is cold and Bucky's hands on his skin feel impossibly hot. He tries to kick the offending garment off, but his legs don't cooperate, send him crashing on top of Bucky in a tangle of limbs and kisses. One of the omega's thighs ends up between Steve's, the pressure against his rapidly hardening cock maddening, making Steve groan against the side of Bucky's neck; a sound which the other echoes, rolling his hips upwards.

"If I didn't know you do that all the time, I'd think it a brilliant move", Bucky mutters under his breath, a hint of a chuckle hidden beneath the words, and Steve grins, makes him shut up by sinking his teeth into the tender skin of the other's throat. Not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to make Bucky roll his hips again, creating friction against both their cocks.  
"Okay, I take everything back", comes something which is almost a sentence, almost a moan, and Steve loves it, stores it away in his memory to keep forever. “Genius, really, I-“

Steve never finds out how Bucky wants to end the sentence, because he grinds down against the other, laves his tongue over the bite mark he has just left, and Bucky gasps, forgets how to speak, and it’s the best feeling in the world. He does it again, and Bucky chokes on his breath, his hands sliding around Steve’s waist to pull him closer, his legs spreading.  
It's the easiest thing to just continue, to rock his hips down and make them both hiss, because the mere friction is enough to feel amazing, even if Bucky is still in his boxers, and Steve’s cock is leaking precome all over the soft fabric. But Bucky’s head is thrown back, and Steve’s face is buried in the crook of his neck, varying between kissing and biting and just breathing; the omega’s arms tighten around Steve’s middle with every small thrust of his hips. Nothing before has ever felt so right.

It's Bucky who stops him by going still, breathing heavily, and Steve doesn’t even have time to worry about having done something wrong, because Bucky says, “I swear to God, if you make me come like this, I won’t ever speak to you again.”  
Of course, it is an empty threat, and Steve knows it, but he still stops moving, lifts his head up so he can look at Bucky. The other is flushed, his pupils blown so that Steve can hardly make out the blue of his eyes anymore, his lips red and swollen; he looks wrecked, and Steve grinds down against him without thinking.  
It makes Bucky gasp and bite his lip, then look up with what Steve thinks is supposed to be a glare. “Jesus Christ, Rogers, I mean it”, he bites out, voice breathless and rough, sounding like cigarette smoke and sex. “I’m going to come around your cock, don’t you even think about-“

 _Stopping me_ , Steve guesses Bucky wants to say, but he never gets to finish this sentence either, because Steve rolls his hips again, harder this time, watches the other throw his head back and arch off the bed. Bucky gasps out his name, low and almost like a plea, like a prayer; and Steve can feel something inside him slip, twist, take over.  
It must be the alpha, which has been buried for so long, for suddenly all Steve can think of is that he needs to make Bucky his, to claim him and mark him and ruin him for everyone else. Again, he rolls his hips, and the other is looking up at him with wide eyes, surprised and shining with lust, moans when their cocks rub against each other through his boxers.

He almost makes Bucky come like this, no matter what the other has said, finding a rhythm which makes them both gasp and groan, but then Bucky pulls back slightly. Looks at him, and whispers, “Steve, _please_ …”  
The other doesn’t have to say what he is asking for, Steve knows it, and it makes him stop in the matter of a second, because he almost made Bucky do something the other didn’t want, almost… This time, it is Bucky who doesn’t let him finish, pulls him down and kisses Steve messily, not a thought wasted on finesse. “Shut up and fuck me”, he says, and their lips are still moving against each other’s; Steve nods and feels Bucky relax slightly.

The omega’s legs fall open as soon as Steve has moved away, letting him pull off Bucky’s underwear and drop it somewhere on the floor. Naked, Bucky is even more gorgeous than before, all long limbs and a blush that has spread down to his chest, but Steve doesn’t take more than a moment to look at the other, instead moves back between Bucky’s legs and spreads them wider, so that he can see the slickness that has spread between the omega’s cheeks, his twitching hole.  
Steve’s breath catches in his throat, because _he has done this_ , Bucky is wet _for him_ , but the other doesn’t give him more than a few moments to look before he whines, reaches out to grab Steve’s small shoulders,. “C’mon, don’t tease, I’m ready…”

He’s right, Steve knows he is, Bucky could take him just like this, without even a moment of preparation - his body made for it after all – but it would hurt, at least at first, and Steve doesn’t like the thought. So instead of fucking Bucky like this, Steve reaches down and circles two fingers around Bucky’s hole, feels the muscles clench and unclench, trying to tempt him into giving Bucky what he wants.  
At first, there are no sounds coming from the omega, not even the laboured breaths Steve has become so accustomed to, and it’s worrying up until the point when Steve looks up and finds Bucky biting his lips, eyes screwed shut, looking as if he has forgotten about the world around him. Steve keeps his eyes on him when he slowly pushes his fingers inside the other, a groan slipping past his own lips, because Bucky is hot and slick and tight and _his_ and he still cannot believe it. Bucky answers with a moan of his own, answers with a roll of his hips and a choked cry of, “God, please, Steve, _please_.”

But Steve cannot give in yet, starts pumping his fingers in and out of the other, scissoring them as much as he can manage. His other hand comes to rest on Bucky’s thigh, fingertips digging into the flesh whenever the omega clenches around his fingers.  
He gives Bucky another two or three minutes to get used to the stretch before he adds another finger, groaning when the other’s body opens up so easily for him, accepting him, and Steve cannot help but imagine how Bucky will feel around his cock, if he’ll be as eager, as responsive.  
Crooking his fingers a little, Steve lets the tips drag across the omega’s insides, and it only takes another two thrusts until he has found Bucky’s prostate. The second he touches it, Bucky _screams_ , voice hoarse and breaking, sounding as if he has never felt anything as good as this, and Steve hopes to God that he really hasn’t; he has never felt anything like Bucky clenching around his fingers before, either.

Steve makes sure that the next time he plunges his fingers inside the other, he touches that sweet, sweet spot inside Bucky again, makes him scream and whimper, his whole body tense with pent up pleasure.  
“Fuck, please, Steve, make me yours, _make me yours_ …”, the other is babbling before Steve even manages to thrust his fingers inside him again, sounding as if on the verge of orgasm already, sounding desperate and hopeful and wrecked, and it’s the last straw. It’s all that Steve can take.  
One last thrust, pressing hard against Bucky’s prostate and making the omega mewl and writhe on the sheets, then Steve pulls his fingers out, wipes them on the sheets, and…

He should be throwing Bucky’s legs over his shoulders, but he can’t, not with his lack of strength and his too slim shoulders, but he can’t turn Bucky around and not see his face either, can’t miss the moment he pushes into the other the first time. Bucky notices and Steve isn’t even surprised anymore, just grateful, when the omega makes a small noise that sounds both annoyed and reassuring, reaches up and pulls Steve closer, wraps impossibly long legs around his waist.  
“Stop thinking”, he mutters and for once, Steve doesn’t have the urge to say something clever back, just nods. And stops thinking.

Which might just have been the best thing he has ever done in his life, for without the constant worrying, the doubt that he won't be able do this for, with, Bucky, his body takes over. The alpha instincts Steve has never felt as keenly as right now, when they make him straighten and reach down to position his cock against Bucky's slick hole.  
It's him who reaches down and takes one of the other's hands in his, brings it to his lips and presses a kiss to the palm, but it's the alpha who finally makes Steve rock his hips, burying his cock deep inside of Bucky's velvet heat.

There has never been anything like it, not his own hand, and not the mouth of this one beta girl who took him back to her flat one night; this is Bucky, and that alone makes it a thousand times better, Bucky who is slick and stretched and moans when Steve slides inside him. Locks his legs behind Steve's waist and tries to pull him even closer, Bucky, who curls his fingers around Steve's and groans, "More, fucking hell, Steve, _move_."  
And he does that too, just like he is sure he'll do anything Bucky will ever ask from him, pulls out and slowly pushes back into the other, trying so hard not to let his instincts take over completely and fuck Bucky too hard, too fast and hurt him. So he sets, or tries to set, a slow rhythm, but Bucky won’t have that, uses his legs to pull Steve closer, makes him go faster and harder.  
“I’m…not a…fucking… porcelain…doll”, he gasps out between thrusts and Steve has to laugh, can’t help it, because Bucky looks like one, flushed cheeks and long eyelashes and a red-painted mouth and yet he sounds like he always does. Like Steve’s best friend. And maybe, hopefully, possibly, like Steve’s mate.

“Course you’re not”, he replies, and his voice is strained and breathless and his fingers tighten around Bucky’s, “Porcelain dolls don’t swear.” And he makes Bucky forget about whatever answer he wants to give by picking up the pace, thrusting into the other harder, faster, rougher, letting the alpha take over, and it feels good, feels too good… and ends too fast, because Steve’s lungs start burning, his throat seizing up.  
It only takes a moment until Bucky’s arms are wrapped around him, on his chest, shoulders, pulling him down and making him go still apart from his heaving chest, his shaking limbs. There are hands on his back, rubbing in circles Steve is so familiar with by now, and although Steve feels like he is choking on every breathe he takes, the roughness of Bucky’s palms and the gentle scrape of his fingernails over his skin is helping him calm down.  
“Shhh, c’mon, it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’ll be fine, it’s alright Steve, just breathe, do you hear me? Breathe.” Bucky’s voice is even more calming than his touches, the words whispered into Steve’s hair, and almost enough to drown out the wave of shame which washes over him when he finally can breathe enough again to feel anything.

It’s bad enough that he will never be able to give Bucky the physical security he should be able to give, that he won’t be able to hold him down and take him apart, but this is another category of bad, this is worse, this is the last thing that Steve thought he would be able to give the other, being taken away. “I’m sorry”, he whispers against Bucky’s chest as soon as he can speak again, not daring to look at the other yet. He knows that Bucky will never laugh at him, will never be disgusted, but he doesn’t want to see pity in those bright blue eyes, either.  
“You’re going to stop this. Right now.”

There is no pity in Bucky’s voice, that much is for certain, only a hint of warmth and more dominance than any omega should possess. A few seconds, Bucky waits for an answer, but Steve cannot think of one.  
“C’mon, look at me.”  
Steve doesn’t want to, really doesn’t want to, but he cannot stay like this forever, cannot avoid looking at Bucky for the rest of his life, so he does, but doesn’t find pity in the other’s face. Only affection in Bucky’s eyes, remaining lust in the blush on his cheeks, absolute trust in the line of his lips.  
“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. If anyone is sorry, then it’s me, because I shouldn’t have pushed you, okay? Which I am, kind of, because I really don’t need you to half die when you’re inside of me, but I’m also not because, fuck, that felt really good. Who would have thought Steve Rogers could fuck like that?” Bucky is smiling, joking, and it makes Steve feel a little better, a little less like the failure of an alpha he is. Just a little.  
He wants to answer something, anything, because it shouldn’t be Bucky consoling him, it shouldn’t _always_ be Bucky consoling him, but the other doesn’t let him, instead keeps on talking.

“An’ you know, if you’re never gonna fuck me like that again, I’ll be fine with it too, because no matter how much I enjoyed that, I’m not actually after you for your dick.” Bucky clenches around him anyway, reminds Steve that he is still inside him, half-hard, and Steve groans softly, feeling his cock starting to harden again. “It’s a bonus, sure, but it’s you I want, not your cock.”  
The other’s voice has grown soft and sweet, his hands still slowly moving across Steve’s frail body, and this is a James Barnes Steve hasn’t seen often, not drunk and emotional, not confident and cocky, but serious and sincere, and t’s almost too much to take. Is too much to take when Bucky continues, “Always has been you.” Gets more like Bucky again, when he adds, “And if you meant all of that about the armies and about me being good enough for you, then you’ll man up and finish what we started here.”

Steve cannot find words, any words at all, no matter if ones which would fit or any other kind of words, so he ends up saying nothing, instead answers through touches. He leans down and kisses the last hints of sounds off Bucky’s lips, kisses him a little bit longer just because he can, and feels the other smile against his lips.  
Cautiously, he rocks his hips forward, and Bucky clenches his muscles around Steve’s cock in return, as an answer.  
“It’s always been you, too”, Steve says softly as soon as he has managed to tear himself away from Bucky’s lips, this time, doesn’t give the other a chance to answer, just rocks his hips.

The pace Steve sets this time slower; not gentle, but passionate, not tender, but intimate, and he almost likes it better, because it gives him more time to feel, to listen to the sounds Bucky makes. They are soft, a little breathless, and make Steve feel a little dizzy, a little too good.  
It doesn’t take long until Steve is fully hard again; Bucky is rolling his hips to meet every of his thrusts, and they find a rhythm together, which makes Steve’s skin tingle and his breath come in gasps.

One of Bucky’s hands is still on his shoulder, but the other slides between their bodies, and Steve only notices, realises what is happening when he can feel rough knuckles brush over his stomach, hears Bucky’s moans. His hips stutter, overwhelmed for a moment, but the other uses his legs to pull him in again, drawing another groan from his own lips.  
“Don’t you fuckin’ stop now”, Bucky hisses and strokes his cock faster, his inner muscles clenching around Steve and making the next of his thrusts so good that Steve sees stars. He couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to, only able to keep his eyes open so he can watch Bucky beneath him fall apart. Which he does, only a few minutes afterwards, his lips parted and eyes glossed over with pleasure, hand flying over his cock as he comes, coating both their stomachs with his seed.  
What is better, Bucky’s face or the feeling of him convulsing around his cock, hot and slick and tight, Steve can’t say, but the mixture of both is almost enough to push him over the edge too, leaving him so close to orgasm that Steve can taste it on his lips. And Bucky might taste it too, when he pulls Steve down to kiss him, slowly and lazily, because he pulls back only slightly, mutters against his lips. “C’mon, Steve, come for me.”

He clenches down around Steve’s cock again, kisses him, and rolls his hips to meet the next thrust. It’s enough, or too much; Steve can’t tell anymore, only knows that it feels amazing, better than he would ever have imagined, because Bucky is letting him fuck him through his orgasm, takes every of his sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts, moans when Steve spills himself deep inside him, fills him up with his come. Wraps his arms around Steve when he rides out the last aftershocks, shaking all over, and only lets go when Steve pulls out, and even then just as long as he needs to fall down on the mattress next to Bucky again.

The other is still flushed and Steve loves it, reaches out and brushes his fingers over Bucky’s cheek, down his neck to the other’s chest; the skin he finds is soft and warm and Bucky is smiling at him when he tears his eyes away to look at the other’s face again. He’s beautiful, and Steve cannot do anything but smile back.  
“I hope I didn’t tire you out too much”, the omega says softly, his voice rough and still gentle, light and his eyes are twinkling. “Because I’ll need you to fuck me again in nine days. Ten, tops.”

It's odd, such a specific time span, not a week, not two, but nine days, ten. Steve raises an eyebrow and Bucky laughs, but there is something tense about the way his lips curl, a hint of anxiety hidden behind the sound.  
“Don’t worry, if you’re up for it, we can do this again in an hour, I don’t mind, but my heat’s due in like a week, so…” Bucky is never nervous, always confident and knows what to do, what to say, and yet he sounds almost worried now, even his smile nervous. And Steve knows why, even if the blood pounding in his ears is making it almost impossible to think straight.

Because fucking during Bucky’s heat means bonding, means Bucky wants to bond with him, wants to be with him, not just for now and tomorrow and maybe a week, but forever, until death does them part, and…  
“You want me- us- you want-?”, Steve asks, tries to ask, fails, because words seem too unimportant when Bucky is turning his world upside down. He’s blushing and he knows it, hands fidgeting and pulling at the sheets below them where he can reach them.  
“Yeah. I mean. If you want to? Otherwise we can just-“ Bucky sounds unsure and insecure, isn’t looking at Steve, but instead at the wall behind him, and Steve cannot stand it, so he doesn’t even let the other finish.  
“I do, Jesus, Buck, of course I do.” And he does, in fact, Steve cannot remember ever wanting anything more than this, but Bucky is still drunk and not thinking clearly, might think so differently in the morning. “It’s just, we just did this, and I don’t- maybe we should wait, so we’ll be sure.” He pauses, then corrects himself. “You’ll be sure.” Because Steve knows already, has never been so sure of anything.

What he expects is for Bucky to agree, or to make some stupid joke, but instead the other snorts, looks at Steve and raises an eyebrow, almost amused, but still just the slightest bit nervous. “Me?”, Bucky asks, and catches Steve’s hand in his, holds it tightly and Steve wonders why he doesn’t mind his bones grinding together. “I’m certain, Stevie, have been since I was thirteen and jacking off in the shower and thought of your hand when I came. So if you wanna, we can wait but…if it’s for my sake, because you’re being too noble for your own good, then it’s really useless ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.”  
He looks sincere, sounds sincere, with a determination that makes Steve’s skin flush and his heart beat faster, because Bucky means it, wants to be his. Forever.  
“Alright”, he breathes out, softly, because it feels like a secret he is sharing with the other, a promise at the same time. “Alright. Nine days. Ten, tops.”

And Bucky smiles, smiles brighter than Steve has ever seen him smile before, his lips stretched and his eyes shining with pure, unaltered joy; he’s radiating happiness and Steve cannot do anything but smile back, curl his fingers tighter around Bucky’s.  
“I’m not gonna start cooking for you, though”, the other says, his voice dripping with affection and trust and happiness; Steve can’t even laugh, only hold on to Bucky’s hand and beam at him, take in every detail of his face, his eyes.  
“Wouldn’t dream of it”, he answers, and leans in so he can kiss Bucky again.  
Nine days. Ten, tops.  
He can deal with that.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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